


On the Altar

by Dracoduceus



Series: On the Altar [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dragon Naga Hanzo, Hemipenes, M/M, Naga McCree, Oviposition, Teratophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 05:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19387765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoduceus/pseuds/Dracoduceus
Summary: While traveling through the desert with his most devoted worshippers, Hanzo decided to take a break, and perhaps a nap, in the cool waters of the nearby river.When he woke up, he found that he wasn't alone.





	On the Altar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShittyHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShittyHero/gifts).



> This is absolutely, entirely, [IchigoWhiskey's](https://twitter.com/ichigowhiskey) fault. I don't remember how, but it is. She, as always, came up with a phenomenal title though.
> 
> **Title honorable mentions:**  
>  Breeding Vacation  
> Tithe  
> Returning the Favor  
> Sex Tour  
> Double Dick Entourage

Hanzo was glad to find a river in the hot red desert and took a moment to rest in it. It was the best of both worlds: cool water running over his scales, the warmth of the desert against the scales of his chest, the sun on his back.

Perhaps he stayed much longer than he had anticipated because by the sun it was noon when he heard the almost delicate rattle of another snake.

He peeked an eye open and found that instead of a tiny rattlesnake, another naga was watching him with naked interest in his eyes. 

Hanzo wasn't sure how he compared to his own species, but the rattlesnake was handsome, with dark skin and scales in patterns of tan and gold to match the dust and scrub brush. Compared to Hanzo he was still rather small but by then Hanzo had learned that his kind's size seemed to be anomalous among other naga of the world. 

He eyed the newcomer appreciatively, eyes lingering on the scars decorating the naga's torso and seeing the direction of his gaze, the strange naga puffed up, his tail rattling again. 

It reminded Hanzo of a dog's wagging tail but was surprised that he didn't find it  _ too _ off putting. 

“Well, would’jya look at that,” the other naga said in accented English. He had a slight lisp as well and Hanzo’s tail stirred in interest—he was a full rattlesnake, who hadn’t been defanged. Wild-born perhaps, and kept as such. Clever enough to learn the human tongue and clever enough to keep his fangs.

A rarity, these days.

“And what shall I look at?” Hanzo asked, eyes half lidded as if still sleepy from his basking.

The naga grinned. “I had begun to wonder,” he said, the tip of his rattle shaking again. He swayed slightly with his body coiled lazily beneath him. Hanzo knew that if pressed, he would move quickly, could and would strike just as fast as the vipers that Hanzo was used to. “You’re not from around these parts so I was hesitant. How do I approach such a jeweled beauty?”

His flattery made Hanzo hum. “From the front,” Hanzo replied, watching the naga sway in place. “So that I may decide what kind of meal to make of you.”

Most vipers that Hanzo knew would puff up, make the jump to a more aggressive posture but this naga’s grin only widened. “I love me a man that can put me in my place,” he said. He arched his neck. “Or at least give me a good fight for it.” His rattle shook again. “Darlin’, I think myself pretty enough in these parts but I pale in comparison to you. A barnyard rooster to your peacock.”

Hanzo hummed. “But a barnyard rooster has his own beauty,” he pointed out and eyed the naga’s rattle, the girth and length of his tail, his broad chest and arms. “And I see nothing to complain about.”

The other naga moved closer, still well out of either of their ranges, his rattle hissing.

Like the wagging tail of an eager dog.

Hanzo  _ should _ find it disgusting, but he could only find it strangely endearing. The tip of his own tail twitched beneath the gentle pull of the water.

“You done warm the cockles of my heart,” the strange naga said, clearly half joking. “But you are a prince among us snake people. I had wondered why there were so many humans on my territory until I saw you.”

His languorous mood shifted. Hanzo sat up straighter, directed more attention toward the naga. “I had not realized that we had moved into your territory.”

The naga frowned, looking a little put-out that their play had been put aside. “Ain’t no issue,” he said. “So long as you are only passing through.”

Hanzo relaxed slightly. “We are,” he agreed. “But you must forgive me for not ordering a proper…offering for passing through your territory.”

He appreciated how clever the naga was; he sidled closer, his tail rattling eagerly once more. “I think an apology is in order as well.” The scales on his belly were shifting, betraying his interest. Hanzo should be dismissive of such eagerness but found himself intrigued instead, and with a hunger that he hadn’t felt in quite some time.

Humming, Hanzo moved out of the water just enough to lounge on the stone he had been basking on, turning over on his back and baring his chest and belly to the strange naga. It was a very human pose, one that Hanzo had seen in many kinds of art that his worshippers had provided for him as offerings, and this new naga didn’t seem too opposed to it, moving close enough to touch.

“And what name should I call while I make my apologies?” Hanzo purred.

To his credit, the naga wasn’t so rude (or lewd) to look away from Hanzo’s face as he approached, his hands boldly brushing against the ridged scales of Hanzo’s sides and tail. “Aw, sweet,” he said, voice a throaty rumble. “Name’s McCree. Jesse McCree.”

Hanzo smiled.

* * *

Hanzo wasn’t new to mating, had done such acts with those of his own species as well as other naga he had met in his travels. 

But this was the first time he had seen hemipenes like Jesse’s, though. They  _ were _ both hemipenes which was a shame but depending on his performance, Hanzo may have a surprise for him later. 

Even stranger was the fact that they were oriented parallel to his hips, side-to-side rather than the up-and-down, but Hanzo wasn’t one to make such judgments. 

“Ain’t never seen a pretty dick like yours,” McCree said, leaning his face close to Hanzo’s chest. He moved his mouth, careful of his fangs, against Hanzo’s scales and skin. “Ain’t never seen anyone as pretty as you. Gonna need to take my time on you.” 

Hanzo peered down at McCree. “What are you doing?” 

A part of him was aware that he would normally be frustrated but was instead intrigued. Americans were always rushing, or so he had experienced; this one was not and his tongue flicked out over the splatter of blue scales on Hanzo’s chest. Hanzo couldn’t feel it that well through the layer of scales and it tickled on the parts of him that were skin, but it was an intriguing visual: McCree’s blue-black tongue flicking along Hanzo’s blue scales and along his pale flesh. 

McCree smiled up at him. “Taking my time,” he repeated. Then he pressed his lips against Hanzo’s belly where it transitioned into hard scales. “Kissing you. Have you never been kissed, my prince?” 

Kissing. The strange thing that humans did with their mouths. 

“I have not,” Hanzo replied. 

McCree gave him a wry smile. “Ain’t much I can do without biting,” he said. “But I gotta say that humans had the right idea.” 

Truthfully, it hadn’t occurred to Hanzo how humans had sex; it didn’t interest him at all what the humans did and right now he was more concerned with what  _ McCree _ was doing. 

Seemingly unaware (or uncaring) of Hanzo’s distraction, McCree coiled his body around the rock that Hanzo was basking on, his tail rattling eagerly as he lowered his face to Hanzo’s pelvis where his scales were beginning to split. McCree winked up at him and ran his blue-black tongue along Hanzo’s scales, the forked tip just beginning to dip in to Hanzo’s slit. 

Hanzo gasped, his body undulating, at the surprising sensation of McCree’s tongue against the sensitive tip of his cock. It began to emerge quicker and McCree hummed. “Just one?” he wondered, his forked tongue flicking at the sensitive tip. 

Shuddering, Hanzo’s entire tail writhed. He  _ should _ be concerned that the rattlesnake’s mouth—and more importantly, his venomous  _ fangs _ —were so close to such tender flesh, but Hanzo was too distracted. If he had any capacity for thought left in his head, Hanzo would wonder that there were so many things that he  _ should _ with McCree that he didn’t: he  _ should _ find him revolting,  _ should _ find him pathetically canine the way he rattled his tail when he was pleased. 

But Hanzo did none of these things. 

Instead he let his head fall back in surprised pleasure as McCree lapped, very dog-like, at his emerging cock. His forked tongue slipped into the tender pink skin of his cloaca and Hanzo gasped. 

“You like that?” McCree asked, voice rumbling wonderfully against Hanzo’s skin. He didn’t give Hanzo a chance to answer, wiggling his tongue deeper into Hanzo’s cloaca beside his emerging cock. That wicked tongue of McCree’s wiggled deep in him in a way that no other cock had done, exploring and twisting in such a sublime way that he felt himself reaching his peak faster than expected.

Embarrassingly fast. 

Somehow McCree seemed to sense this and pulled that terrible-wonderful tongue back to grin smugly up at Hanzo. “Ain’t nobody ever treat you right?” 

Hanzo hissed impatiently. “If anyone has treated me poorly, it will be you for denying me.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” McCree purred, lifting himself up over Hanzo. He settled his body over Hanzo’s, the two shafts of his hemipenes bracketing Hanzo’s cock. 

Every instinct in him urged Hanzo not to bare his neck but he did anyway, rolling his whole body against McCree’s. McCree pressed his lips against Hanzo’s throat, that wicked tongue flicking out to trace the edge of Hanzo’s jaw. 

“Shouldn’t I be allowed to enjoy my treat?” McCree purred. “Take it nice and slow with you? Worship you the way you deserve?” When he put it that way, then he could hardly fault McCree though he still hissed, wiggling his body against McCree’s. He sighed when he felt the skin of McCree’s cocks brush against his and, most importantly, rub against the opening of his cloaca. 

McCree moved his mouth against Hanzo’s jaw. “Eager, are we?” Hanzo was ready to bristle, to wrap the entirety of his tail around McCree, throw him to the ground and take what he wanted, when McCree sighed and rocked his hips back, moving a hand down to stroke one of his cocks and press the very tip of it in beside Hanzo's. 

Thoughts derailed, Hanzo fell back at the stretch and the feeling of fullness that bordered on pain. 

“Oh, what you do to me,” McCree breathed above him. “You feel so nice around me. Was this what you expected?”

_ No _ , Hanzo wanted to say but didn't because of his pride. McCree kept filling him, easing their hips closer. His rattle was a constant hum now, echoing their rough breaths. 

McCree, seemingly unbothered by Hanzo's lack of response, mouthed at Hanzo's neck, lapping at his jaw before lifting his lips to Hanzo's in a human kiss. 

He was becoming alarmingly comfortable with such kisses and McCree swallowed his groan when he began to rock their hips together. McCree's other cock rubbed against the scales of his belly, dripping precome and making a sticky mess of Hanzo's polished scales but he couldn't find it in him to care, too distracted by the enormous girth rubbing so wonderfully against his own cock, fucking deep inside him as if entirely confident of his ownership. 

“That's it,” McCree breathed. “Open up for me.”

McCree wrapped his tail around Hanzo's, holding him tight, holding him still while McCree took what he wanted. 

“Fuck,” McCree breathed. “You seem close, sweet.” He patted his hand down between them, bumping his knuckles against Hanzo's cock before closing his first around it. “Come on, let me feel you.”

It wasn't the hand stroking him or McCree's enormous girth stretching him wide that pushed him over the edge; it was the flash of McCree's tongue, there and gone again against Hanzo's jaw.

Hanzo gasped, opening and closing his mouth breathlessly as he came, his tail jerking as if electrocuted. He clenched around McCree who groaned and Hanzo found his voice only to gasp at the almost painful burn as he clenched around McCree. His come spilled uselessly between them, shining in pearlescent streaks against his scales and belly while McCree's filled him to the brim.

“Fuck,” McCree breathed and said something in his own language. He pulled his cock out and stared down at Hanzo's gaping cloaca, at the streaks of white that were already oozing out. 

Hanzo shuddered, still sensitive, as McCree dipped his thumbs into Hanzo's cloaca, spreading it wider as more of his come bubbled out. 

Breathing hard, Hanzo forced himself to relax, releasing the coils of his long tail from McCree’s. “Well look at that,” McCree breathed, surprisingly unbothered by the constriction around his tail. “Mighty fine tail you got there. Longer than I expected.” 

Hanzo shuddered when McCree dipped two of his fingers into Hanzo's cloaca with an obscene squelch. “Are you not done?” Hanzo managed to gasp.

“Done?” McCree laughed. “Hell, I only came  _ once _ . Got another dick for you to take...and another load to fill you up.”

Alarmed, Hanzo lifted his head and found that the naga did indeed have another cock still hard, flushed dark pink and dripping with precome. The other had disappeared into McCree's own cloaca, giving him a strangely lopsided appearance. 

McCree chuckled, angling his hips and pressing the tapered tip of his second cock to Hanzo's messy hole. “Open up.”

This round was rougher, McCree thrusting into him like an animal, hissing and grunting. Hanzo's tail spasmed, tears forming in his eyes as he was fucked through overstimulation. His claws dug furrows in McCree's back, yanking him closer rather than pushing him away and constricted around McCree's tail in what had to have been a painful way. 

When McCree came again, Hanzo groaned, feeling aching and overstuffed and jittery. He lay limply on the rock, breathing hard and staring up at the bright blue sky of the desert. 

“Oh darling,” McCree rumbled, wiggling out of the loose coils of Hanzo's tail. “Ain't you a treat?” Now he sounded satisfyingly wrecked, and Hanzo could feel him shaking. “Darlin’, I might just have to keep you here forever.” 

That was a nice thought. 

McCree decked out in gold and jewels. Perhaps silver to glow against his tan scales, or maybe even gold. Certainly jewels, perhaps even red fire opals to match Hanzo’s own jeweled set. 

Not to mention, Hanzo had his own plans for McCree. Two cocks, McCree had mocked; Hanzo had two as well, but not the kind that McCree was expecting. 

He told himself that the look on McCree’s face was why he said, “Come back with me to my camp. Feast with us.”

McCree hummed, his fingers brushing against Hanzo’s gaping cloaca, dipping two of his fingers in. Gasping, oversensitive tears beading at the corners of his eyes. “Sweet thing like you, you’re not gonna be rid of me that easy.” 

“Good,” Hanzo hissed and coiled his tail around McCree’s again. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

* * *

In some ways that evening’s feast was ruined. 

Hanzo’s worshippers were mortified that their dragon god would let something as common as a rattlesnake—even a rattlesnake naga—bend him over the altar-table and fuck him silly. Two loads later, Hanzo’s belly was distended and only his acolytes were left.  _ They _ , at least, were used to the idea that Hanzo was mortal (albeit worshipped as a god) and susceptible to lust. 

There was little that fazed his acolytes. How loyal they were; Hanzo thought to reward them but was otherwise distracted by the obscene stretch of McCree’s cock shoved deep within him. Despite being stretched so wide earlier that day, it still felt as if it was the first time and Hanzo shuddered beneath McCree. 

McCree became a constant companion and though Hanzo (and even McCree, himself) joked that it was because of his dicks, Hanzo knew better. He had patience, and such patience would be rewarded. 

So he let McCree pin him down and fuck him. He let McCree play with his sloppy cloaca, rub that wicked tongue of his deep inside. 

He played the long game and it was worth it in the end. Hanzo decided to settle in this hot desert. The cool water of the river was lovely on his scales, and the hot sun was lovely to bask in. Not to mention the company was excellent. 

His acolytes built a temple for him and his consort who basked in the reflected glory. McCree no longer had to hunt for his food. He was pampered, cared for, and could spend most of his time fucking Hanzo—which he did, often. 

But now it was different; now the tables had turned. 

Hanzo laughed as he held McCree down with his much larger bulk and showed off his second cock. The one that McCree hadn’t seen before. 

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” Hanzo hissed, pressing kisses—much the way that McCree liked to—along McCree’s neck. He coiled his much longer tail around McCree, holding him still. “But I think you’d like what I have for you.” 

McCree grinned, his fangs glittering in the sunlight. “Oh darling, I think I might.” 

Hanzo watched smugly as McCree’s eyes widened at the thick cock that rested against his cloaca. There was little doubt what it was and Hanzo relished the look of shock that McCree directed at him. 

Still, he didn’t protest and Hanzo slipped his ovipositor in, shuddering as he watched McCree’s cloaca widen with each egg that was deposited. McCree came embarrassingly quickly but Hanzo was far from done, inserting egg after egg into McCree. He breathed reassurances, praises, into McCree’s hair as he shuddered, clutched Hanzo close, his eyes tearing with overstimulation. 

When he was done, McCree’s belly was swollen and distended, and Hanzo thought that he could see the palest hints of an egg sitting shallowly in McCree’s cloaca, right at the edges. Hanzo ran his hands over McCree’s belly, pressing against it to feel (or imagine he felt) the shifting of those soft-shelled eggs moving around. McCree whimpered. 

“You were so greedy,” Hanzo breathed, his fingers easing open McCree’s cloaca. A single round egg popped out, covered in thick mucus; Hanzo brushed it aside as another filled the opening of McCree’s stuffed hole. “Now look what you’ve done. Look at our lovely clutch.” 

Hanzo could see that McCree didn’t believe that the eggs were fertile—rightfully so—but was still endeared by the idea. Though exhausted, overstimulated, and weak, his tail still rattled excitedly.

**Author's Note:**

> Love it? Hate it? Have questions? Feel free to come and yell at me on twitter at [Dracoduceus](https://twitter.com/dracoduceus).
> 
> I love hearing from you!
> 
> ~DC


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